


Saving face

by Builder



Series: Chasing Ghosts [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fever, Flu, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: When Friday night arrives and Tasha still hasn’t emerged from her room, James decides to venture in and see what’s gone amiss.
Series: Chasing Ghosts [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1290962
Kudos: 17





	Saving face

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @builder051

When Friday night arrives and Tasha still hasn’t emerged from her room, James decides to venture in and see what’s gone amiss. He knocks first, just for the sake of decency, but as expected, there’s no answer. 

“I’m coming in, Tash,” he calls, then shoves through the door.

The first thing that hits James is the warmth of the room. It has to be pushing eighty degrees, even though the temperature outside is probably the same. The apartment complex hasn’t turned the AC over to heat yet, but James recognizes the electric blanket spread messily over the lump shivering in the middle of the bed.

“Tash?” At least she’s not in the middle of a come-down. Then he’d have found her lying there with the sweats in nothing but her underwear.

“Hm?” The lump stirs slightly, and a mop of tousled red curls peeks out from the top of the pile of blankets.

“I never thought I’d have to ask,” James says, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, “But what are you doing home?”

“Ugh,” Tasha groans. The blanket pile sprouts fingers, then it rolls down enough to show a pallid face dusted with freckles that look a shade darker than usual. “Get off. Please.”

“Um. Ok?” James obliges, understanding as the bedsprings groan and pop back up into place now that they’re free of his weight. Tasha’s too small to depress them much, but his mass probably set her off on a theoretical journey across the ocean. Nauseous, James adds to his mental list of symptoms. Plus cold. Certainly feverish. He decides to break it to her gently.

“A little under the weather, are we?” James asks.

Tasha rolls her eyes, then winces.

Headache, James thinks.

“Under the weather?” Tasha scoffs. “Who came up with that, anyway?”

James shrugs. “Probably some old dude a hundred years ago.”

“Makes sense.” Tasha sniffles, then wipes her nose on the back of her hand. “Is it, like, raining or something? That might explain the fucking pressure migraine.”

“It’s perfectly fine out,” James replies. But it proves that she’s been holed up all day. “And I doubt it’s just barometric pressure. You didn’t happen to skip your flu shot this year, did you?”

Tasha narrows her eyes at him. “Mind your own business.”

“I’m happy to, unless, you know, the health and safety of the whole household is at stake.”

“What, you think I’m some kind of Typhoid Mary here?”

“Um…” James tries to put it delicately. Depending on how long she’s been feeling bad, he and Steve have probably already been exposed. No matter what he says, it’ll just piss her off, and it’s no use poking that bear. Better just focus on taking care of her. He’ll mind the consequences later. “Nevermind,” James finally says. “How’re you feeling? And be honest, ok?”

Tasha stares blankly at him for a second. Then she swallows. Sighs. And whispers, “Like fucking hell.”

“I figured as much. A symptom list would be more helpful.”

“My head. My face hurts. Fuck, everything hurts.” Tasha brings the heel of her hand to her temple.

“How’s your stomach?” James asks tentatively.

“Ugh,” Tasha groans. “Not so good. Threw up before you came home.”

“Need a bin or something?” James looks around to see if her bedroom trash is within reach.

“Probably,” Tasha admits. “Not, like, immediately.” Though her next swallow looks threatening.

“You try to power through too much,” James admonishes. “How about I get some supplies and camp out in here with you awhile?”

“Aren’t you worried about contracting something?”

“Nah, sibling germs don’t count.” James cracks a grin as he steps toward the door. “Anything you want in particular? Crackers? Ginger ale?”

“No thanks,” Tasha mutters. “I don’t want to think about food.”

“Gatorade it is, then. Blue? That’ll be fun to see you upchuck later.”

“Fuck you, Jamie.” Tasha pulls the covers back up over her head.

“What was that?” James cups his hand around his ear. “Thank you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Tasha bares her eyes and nose. “I do owe you one now.”

“No, consider this a freebie. Everyone deserves a little slack when they’re sick as you are. And I kind of love you.”

“Then thanks, I guess,” Tasha says, her voice still muffled by the blankets. “And I kind of love you too.” 


End file.
